Musings of the Muggleborn's Father
by Kore-of-Myth
Summary: Dr. Granger muses on his daughter, and the events leading up to her first going to Hogwarts. Written for the Father's Day Challenge on HPFC.


_This fic is dedicated to my father - who deals with my complaints, rudeness, ideas, and unpredictability. Daddy, if you ever read this - Happy Father's Day._

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Dr. Derrick Granger always knew his daughter was special. And this wasn't just because the tiny bundle handed to him that day was _his_.

For one thing, Hermione had learned to talk later than other children. Derrick and his wife, Irene didn't hear more than a word out of her until she was two years old – and then she spoke in sentences as if she'd never done anything else in her life. Derrick had been proud of his daughter - and incredibly relieved that Hermione wasn't retarded as a few people hadn't suggested but was in fact normal at the very least in the intelligence department.

When Hermione was five years old, she begged to learn how to read. Irene and Derrick had always read aloud to her, yet she was insistent she learn herself. They had refused giving her reasons _you're too young – don't you like it when we read to you? – you don't have to yet – we help you all the time, don't we?_ But Hermione – even at her young age – was stubborn, and wouldn't listen.

That was when the screaming fit started. It further punctuated Irene's statement that Hermione was too young, and immature – until the lights flared and blew out at the crescendo of her wails.

Though ever a religious sort – never even going to temple on Saturday and only celebrating the High Holidays, Derrick and Irene took it as a sign from God. They began Hermione's lessons the next day.

Hermione caught on quickly – faster than others had or would have, and soon she was proudly reading on her own. At this time, Derrick's true reason for not wanting Hermione to read overtook him – that his little girl would grow up too fast, and no longer spend time with him any more.

He needn't have worried (at least not then) for his daughter still turned to him and Irene for bedtime stories, and now surprisingly in-depth conversations for a little girl, on all that she had read.

Hermione's intelligence really was what most who knew her before she went away, marked her as special. Or at least, by the grownups who knew her. The children in her class didn't think so, and so Derrick daughter was often subjected to teasing and ridicule of _bucky, teacher's pet, _and _bush lady._

And though Derrick was ashamed to admit it – he was still thrilled that even when Hermione was nine or even ten, she turned to him for comfort when it all grew too much for her.

But the main the main thing that set Hermione off as special was that she was a witch.

No, she wasn't rude or uncouth. She wasn't mean to others or cruel. Hermione had magical powers, and therefore was a witch.

After the letter – and Hestia Jones – arrived, Irene and Derrick had scoured their family trees, hoping to find another person of magical descent their. They found none – and for once Derrick didn't have the answers for his daughter's questions.

"_Why now?"_

"_Where does it come from?"_

"_Why me and not Mum and Dad?"_

Derrick wished had the answer to the last question most of all.

Hestia returned the next week to take Hermione for supplies and most importantly a wand. Derrick and Irene had asked, subtly as possible, _if they were needed to come along as well?_ Hestia replied with a cheery laugh (oblivious to the parent's distress) that _no, we'll be just fine won't we, Hermione?_

She had just given a wary nod.

That evening when the three had settled down for dinner, Hermione's whole attitude had changed, making her an entirely different person. She was bubbly and talkative (usually she was quite and somber, unless it was about books and then it was restrained with a wondrous look in her eye). Hermione was incredibly eager to share with her parents all the information she had gathered about her new world. _Her._

As much as Hermione talked and as much as Derrick loved fantasy – he couldn't wrap his mind around it all. Yes, he believed it with his whole heart – but what he meant was that he didn't understand it. He tried listening to Hermione's explanations (they sounded too crazy to be _magic_) and examined her wand when she held it out to him (to his unsaid chagrin, he couldn't tell the difference between it and any other twig), but it was hopeless.

Derrick felt like his daughter had been swept into a mysterious fortress with himself locked outside, only hearing snippets of her conversations and life through the cracks under the door.

In a way, this frightened Derrick and he actually did what he least wanted to do – he buried himself in his work, 'reality', and pushed away his daughter.

It didn't take long for Irene and Hermione to catch on to this behavior. Hermione – though intelligent – couldn't quite figure out that her father was going through confounding set of emotions and didn't know what was going on. As young people are wont to do, she made the wrong assumption, and began to believe her father didn't love her anymore, due to her being a witch. She retreated even more into her books and away from her mother as well. Hermione began to memorize her magical texts – for even though she loved her father so very much, she wasn't going to give up even this bit she had of the magical world.

Irene was puzzled at her husband's actions – but became more concerned over her daughter's when she shunned Irene herself, from her company. It was then Irene confronted her husband.

_Why are you doing this? Don't you understand what you're doing to her? I don't understand you anymore – she thinks you _hate_ her, Derrick! What's with you?_

He had only just turned back to his x-rays, examining them as if she hadn't accused him of abandoning his only child. Irene at a loss only sighed and threw her hands in the air before returning home.

Derrick watched over the next few days, behind his bills and documents how Irene tried to mend the rift between those in her family. Derrick ignored all attempts – he couldn't even speak of his feelings to Irene let alone his daughter, and Hermione just stayed away from her father. At what should have been the best of family times, it truly was the most distant any of them had been from each other – there had never been any rifts in the family love before.

Uneasy grounds filled the Granger household – and it was at its high when it was time to drop off Hermione at King's Cross Station.

The trip was silent and tense. Irene under the self appointed role as peace maker, tried to make small talk. Neither father nor daughter would answer her. Hermione began to mumble the twelve uses of Dragon's Blood, and Derrick's color heightened.

At last, the Grangers made it to the wall that separated platforms nine and ten. Hestia had made it quite clear that only Hermione would be able to pass through the wall. Goodbyes would have to take place before hand.

Abandoning her trolley, Hermione hugged her mother. Words were said, and the two clutched each other tightly. _You'll be careful?_ and _write me, will you?_ and of course, _I'm going to miss you so much!_

Final squeezes were exchanged and the mother and daughter finally let go of each other. From the sides, Derrick watched as Hermione turned towards him, eyes wide.

At a loss of what to do, the two stood facing each other in an awkward silence as travelers streamed past them. Suddenly Hermione broke the silence – _I'm going to miss you._

Surprised, Derrick returned, _I'm going to miss you too, Hermione._

Hope filled Hermione's eyes. _You'll write?_

Derrick nodded, a bit stiffly, but it was all that was needed for the bushy haired girl. She rushed forward as Derrick dropped to his knees and the father and daughter hugged fiercely.

_I'm so scared,_ she whispered. _I'm going to miss you all so much!_

_Don't be scared, _he chided. Derrick realized how out of place his actions the past weeks had been. _You've got nothing to be scared of._

_I've never been anywhere with out you though. Not like this. What if they don't like me?_

Derrick pulled Hermione out of his embrace and at arms length, his hands resting on her shoulders. _Hermione, _he said, looking her in the eye. _You're getting a chance that other only dream of. You're getting a new start – a new world to be introduced to and bring yourself into. You're going to experience _magic,_ and learn spells and whatever it is witches learn at this school. You're going to show them exactly what you are – capable of doing whatever they can._

She wiped a few stray tears from her eyes, sniffling.

_Hermione, _he said more softly. _You're a smart, beautiful, and innovative girl. Your mother and I love you so much. Nothing is going to change that._

_Really? _she sniffled.

_Really. _A whistle nearby grabbed their attention and then they were brought back to reality.

_Go on,_ Derrick said.

Hermione nodded, and Derrick stood moving next to a silently crying Irene. He threw an arm around her, pulling her close.

Hermione grabbed her trolley. She made her way towards the wall, and seemed to be about to storm it when she stopped and turned back around. With a shaky smile, she waved at her parents. They waved back, smiling encouragingly despite Irene's tears. Hermione's smile grew brighter, and with that she moved to the wall, running at full speed until she disappeared.

Derrick sighed, and patted his wife's shoulder fondly. Lost in thought he realized the following – his daughter wasn't special because any of the reason he had originally thought.

Hermione Granger was special because she faced her fears, even when those around her discouraged her.

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_Please take the time to review and let me know what you think! I experimented with a new style in this fic, so I'm interested to see what people thought of it._

_Happy Father's Day to any fathers out there reading this!_


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